


Inheritance

by cathalin



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-29
Updated: 2008-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathalin/pseuds/cathalin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John never wanted to be like his father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inheritance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bead/gifts).



John watches the whole thing happen from too far away to prevent it.

Jacob races around the corner, heedless of people and objects in his path. He’s got a huge grin on his face and he’s laughing and taunting the other children, who run in a winded pack at his heels.

John sees the obstacles in front of Jacob and plots likely trajectories. “Watch out!” he yells, but it’s too late.

He watches helplessly as Jacob crashes into a nurse bustling towards the infirmary, then caroms off him and runs smack into Teyla, who’s carrying a pottery bowl. A beautiful hand-painted Athosian pottery bowl, which falls – seemingly in slow motion – to the hard floor. There’s a collective gasp from the people in the corridor, and then the wrenching sound of the bowl breaking, shattering into hundreds of tiny pieces.

Jacob’s eyes are wide, and for once he’s motionless. Horror paints his face as Teyla crouches gracefully and gently touches the shards with her long fingers.

“I - . Oh god, I’m sorry, Aunt Teyla. I wasn’t thinking, and I was doing that thing Dad tells me never to do, doing things without thinking of the, the conse- what will happen, but I didn’t mean it, but I know that doesn’t matter, what matters is what you _do_ , and - .”

“Jacob!” John interrupts, anger welling. Damnit, Teyla has so little left of her people, her home, and for his son to have done this – . It pisses him off and it’s embarrassing and if he’s talked to Jacob once about not thinking before he acts, he’s talked to him about it a hundred times.

Jacob turns to him, eyes very blue – fortunately he got Rodney’s eyes – and his expression is pleading. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he whispers.

“Yeah, well sorry doesn’t do much good, does it?” John says. “Sorry won’t put Teyla’s bowl back together. Sorry won’t give Teyla her heritage back.” If his voice reminds him of his father’s, he’s pushing that thought to the back of his brain, because so what? Jacob did something wrong and he needs to understand that there are consequences.

Jacob’s mouth quivers – somehow he got John’s full lips from the Ancient baby-device – and tears are standing unshed in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says, turning to Teyla.

John’s really angry now. Of course Teyla will just tell Jacob it’s okay, and it’s not. “Just – just go to our quarters!” he snaps. Jacob looks at him, hurt clear on his face. He’s not used to being talked to like this, but it’s time he grew up and faced reality. Everyone in Atlantis spoils the children, and Jacob is probably most spoiled of all.

John hardens his voice. “Now.”

Jacob looks at John’s face and swallows, then slips silently down the corridor.

“John,” Teyla says, voice soft.

He crouches down next to her on the floor and starts picking up pottery shards. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

She puts her hand on his arm and waits until he’s looking at her to speak. “John. Athan and Calla and Jacob; they are my heritage now. This bowl is a thing. People are what matter. You know this.”

John bites his lip and looks away. His father had tried to teach him that what mattered was things, and appearances. He’d always known better, though for many years he was too young to fight it.

“Go,” Teyla says.

In their quarters, Jacob is a small lump on the sofa. He raises his face to John and for the first time ever, John reads fear there. Fear, and self-recrimination, and a lot of other things he’d sworn that no child of his would ever - . No.

John sits down and scoops Jacob up, pulls him close, hugs him tight, then tighter still. For a second Jacob is very still, and then his small arms come around John, clinging. “I’m sorry,” John whispers into his hair, at first so quietly there’s no way Jacob could hear it. His father never once said he was sorry to John, for any of the things he said and did. Damnit, his son is going to hear it from him. So he says it louder, over and over, until he’s sure Jacob’s heard.

A little later, John swipes his sleeve surreptitiously over his eyes, then does Jacob’s with a tissue. He takes a breath and says, “So, wanna hear a story about me doing something really stupid when I was a kid?”

Jacob nods, then smiles tentatively. “Sure.”

“Sit back,” John says. “There are a lot of them.” He grins and waits till Jacob’s smile reaches his eyes. “We could be here all night.”

His voice doesn’t sound anything at all like his father’s.


End file.
